Ups And Downs
by dftreaper
Summary: The war is over, reconstruction has began, and Seireitei is in need of a few captains… IchiHitsu. Yaoi, no like, no read
1. Understand

**Hello all! Welcome to my newest chapter story, 'Ups and Downs.' The title may change, though. And if it does, just E-mail me if I forget to change it on here. But, now, it's on to the boring stuff.**

**Warnings: This story will contain eventual IchiHitsu. Along with fluff, smut, slight angst, swearing, blood, cheesiness, and plenty of other things. This is yaoi. No like, no read. Oh, and major doses of Urahara that may cause addiction. Spoilers!!!!!!!!!!!!**

**Disclaimer: In my dreams.**

**Summary: The war is over, reconstruction has began, and Seireitei is in need of a few captains…**

**And, now, on to the story!**

* * *

With the Winter War finally finished, Aizen dead, Ichigo was back at home. With his family. And he was bored out of his skull. He almost wished he hadn't killed that bastard, Aizen. Then, at least, there would be something to do. He was currently lying on his bed, hands tucked behind his head, staring at the ceiling. He sighed. Shifting his gaze out the window, he looked out to the blue sky, and the clouds drifting lazily.

He turned his head toward the door as he heard Yuzu's delicate footsteps ascending the stairs. Sure enough, a few moments later, there was a light knock on his door. "Onii-chan, lunch is ready," She called, her voice slightly muffled. Sitting up, he said, "Okay, thanks, Yuzu. I'll be down in a minute." Scrubbing the weariness from his face, he threw on a shirt and headed downstairs, and into the kitchen.

Karin was already seated at the table, digging into her lunch, in hopes of getting outside again soon to play soccer. She looked up as he entered the room. "Hey, Ichi-nii." He placed a hand on her head and ruffled her hair. "Gah! Ichi-nii!" She smacked his hands away and leveled a mild glare in his direction. He grinned crookedly at her.

He settled down, looking at the plate Yuzu set in front of him. He mumbled a thank you, and settled into the mechanic motion of pulling his chopsticks to his lips, and back down again to gather more food. His thoughts strayed to those still injured in Seireitei. Rukia had been released yesterday, Renji was still under Unohana's watchful eye, Ikkaku, Yumichika, Rangiku, Shuhei, and Kira had all been released the day before he left and insisted on dragging him to drinks. Ukitake took a stab to his already damaged lungs, but should live. Kyoraku-taicho had barely left his side. Kenpachi was in intensive care, but already up and talking, Yachiru glued to his chest. And Byakuya had lost an arm and a good chunk of his abdomen- though Orihime and her Shun-shun Rikka had taken care of those easily.

Urahara's gang all safely back at the Shoten, along with Chad, Inoue, and Ishida. His mind lingered on the prickly captain of the Jubantai. Toshiro Hitsugaya had suffered some of the worst physical injuries, besides himself, and perhaps Renji, but was already Okayed to walk around and leave the care wards. But, with the loss of his sister, Hinamori Momo, he was under strict watch.

* * *

He had come to see Ichigo off, thanking him for defeating 'that Bastard', when he himself couldn't, and bringing him Momo. He was unable to be there for her last words, but, according to Ichigo, they were best wishes to her Shiro-chan, and her apologies fir not coming to the light sooner, when they still had a chance. Ichigo knew had badly it hurt to lose someone so deeply cared for, and his heart and admiration went out to the icy captain. It was a feat worthy of Byakuya Kuchiki not to show your grief. But, as always, Toshiro's face was a mask of careful indifference; only by looking into the emerald eyes-and knowing what you're looking for- could you see the many unshed tears for Hinamori Momo.

They had an understanding. The kind that comes from the death of a loved one. The kind of understanding that comes from blaming yourself for that death.

* * *

Hitsugaya Toshiro was not happy. Not happy at all. Unohana had given him, two weeks of what amounted to a mental health leave. _Two bloody weeks!_ There was no way he could leave his division for that long. Not with the restoration of Soul Society already proceeding slowly. And so, currently, he was pacing the length of his quarters, hands linked behind his back, and a severe scowl propped on his face. Matsumoto visited him every day, giving reports on the divisions recovery, and their members that were still incapacitated in the infirmary. He was satisfied with the progress they were making, but just wished that Matsumoto would break her damned oath, and start doing the paperwork! It was going to take _days_ of all-nighters to finish all the excess-most unnecessary- reports and applications. On second thought, can he just never go back to work?

He glanced up at the clock ticking on the wall. Time to see Unohana for his every-other-day check-up. Yay. Shrugging into his pristine captain's haori, he pulled on his waraji and trudged to the relief stations. He kept his head up, but his gaze lowered to his feet, letting the rhythmic sight of the socked swaying in and out of view to lure him into a brain-dead autopilot. The lull in his thoughts ended all too soon, ad he found himself facing the rather large and intimidating, yet homely, sight of the front entrance. Unohana strolled out to meet him.

"Hello, Hitsugaya-taicho," she said kindly, waving a hand softly at the open doors. After addressing her, he followed her to the west wing of the wards, eyes trained on the bold blackness Fourth division's insignia on her captains' cloak.

Settling onto the exam table, he laid back, folding his hands over his chest. He felt the tips of soft fingers come to rest on his temples.

"Breathe deeply, and relax, Hitsugaya-taicho." She said. A pale green glow encompassed her graceful hands as they rested on the sides of the white topped head. Toshiro closed his eyes and breathed deeply through his nose. Unohana frowned lightly. _He _is _recovering…but he is too distracted here. I think I shall send him on a small vacation. _Her frown turned to a small smile. The green glow faded, and Unohana removed her hands. As Hitsugaya sat up, she turned on him sternly. "Hitsugaya-taicho," she admonished. "I gave you these two weeks for you to relax. You are doing anything but. I am extending your leave," Hitsugaya's jaw loosened slightly, but he said nothing. "Thirty-one more days. And, to make sure your promise of relaxation is kept, you _will_ spend it in the living world. I trust our friend, Kurosaki-kun, will be happy to have you." He bowed his head in defeat, scowling inwardly.

"Yes, Unohana-taicho." He consented.

She nodded, satisfied. "You will leave in two days time. Thank you for your cooperation. You are dismissed, Hitsugaya-taicho." She led him to the large double doors in the lobby, and bowed slightly.

"Thank you, Unohana-taicho. Have a good day." He bowed as well. Smiling, she did not watch him walk away, but turned and headed toward the Eleventh Company's captain's office.

* * *

**Well, there goes chapter one. Sorry it's so short, but I hope tou like it anyway.**


	2. On Hiatus

ATTENTION READERS!!!!!!!!!

"The Six and the Strawberry" and "Ups and Downs" are on HIATUS!!!!! They are temporarily discontinued due to my next to none access of the computer. I will possibly be posting scattered one-shots that are separate from the two stories above. I am insanely sorry for all me fans that are telling me to haul ass and get these new chapters out. And I hope they- and you- will forgive me. DO NOT COMMENT OR REVIEW ON THIS PAGE AS YOU WILL NOT BE ABLE TO REVIEW THE ACTUAL CHEPTER WHEN IT DOES COME OUT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Thank you and forgive me

-


	3. Small Spaces

Hitsugaya Toshiro _really_ did not want to go to the living world, and he certainly didn't want to stay with Kurosaki Ichigo. It wasn't that he didn't like Kurosaki, far from it, but he had a feeling. A sixth sense, if you will, that is telling him something is going to happen. Good or bad, though, he doesn't know.

What really got him, though, is the thought of all the paperwork Matsumoto won't do. _Deep breaths, _he told himself. He couldn't strangle his fuku-taicho just yet. Seireitei's restoration needed every officer up and running. After everything was fixed, maybe… but he can't do it now, so he settled for packing a bit more roughly than usual.

He only needed a few things- some human clothes and a few books. He secured his bag over his shoulder, along with Hyorinmaru, and stepped out his door. He strode purposefully toward the Senkeimon, and tried to convince himself that staying with Kurosaki wouldn't be so bad. It wasn't hard.

Only Matsumoto and, much to his chagrin, Ukitake came to see him off. He left after Ukitake shoved a large bundle of chocolate into his arms.

When Ichigo woke that morning, he felt like he was forgetting something. Still toting this feeling, he stepped into his bathroom. He turned the shower spray to warm and stripped down. He spent his shower time pondering, trying to pinpoint what he was forgetting. He absently scrubbed at his hair, and lathered his body in soap.

Deeming himself clean, and the shower of no help, he shut the water off and wrapped a towel around his waist. As he walked into his bedroom, a Hell Butterfly fluttered through his perpetually open window.

He cursed, and, without needing to hear the message, slammed his Shinigami badge into his chest. He flew out his window and broke out in shun-po, speeding to Urahara's shop. His newly purchased flat was a bit farther than his house, but it only took him an extra second to get there. He slid open the shoji front door and quickly descended the ladder.

He used shun-po again, ending up by Urahara's side.

"Ah, Kurosaki-kun! So nice of you to come!" the shop-keeper sang, snapping up his fan. Ichigo opened his mouth to make a snarky retort, but stopped as the gate began to open.

Toshiro stepped out of the gate, hauling Ukitake's bundle of treats. Not fun. He exited the gate completely, and stepped into Urahara's basement. The pseudo sun lighting was a shock for a moment, but he managed not to reach up and cover his eyes. He had an image to maintain after all.

"Oi, Toshiro!" Ichigo called, waving. Hitsugaya bit back a smile and lifted his chin.

"Hello, Kurosaki." Hitsugaya greeted.

"Hitsugaya-kun! How nice to have you back!"

"Thank you, Urahara-san." Toshiro bowed slightly.

"You are quiet welcome! Now, let us get your Gegai!" He waved them in the direction of the ladder, swishing his fan in the air dramatically. _He's almost as crazy as my old man._ Toshiro strode foreword, letting Ichigo and Urahara both het a look at the back of the spiky white head. Urahara hid a grin as he watched Ichigo stare at the young captain's back. _Unohana is most devious indeed… _he thought.

"So how is everyone there?" Ichigo asked, not liking the silence that was following them.

"They're doing well. We're short-staffed, but more are being signed as fit for work."

"So what're you off for? All Unohana said was that it was for healing leave."

Hitsugaya could hardly say the word. "Bereavement leave." He managed to spit out. _For Hinamori… _Ichigo realized. He berated himself for forgetting the tiny girl. Her last words flashed through his mind. He closed his eyes against the memory, crossing his arms over his chest, blocking out the cool wind passing through town. Toshiro's eyes flickered to him, then down to his feet. He recalled when Kurosaki walked across the raging battle field, eyes fixed on him, carrying Momo's still body in his arms. He had looked up, and through all the chaos, Ichigo was approaching at what seemed to be a teasingly slow pace, the heat of the battle going on around him splitting to let him through. To bring him Momo. He recalled when he had dropped to his knees, and cradled her head to his chest, chanting her name. He had cried. For the first time in a very long time, he had shed tears for his sister. It was the last time he had cried, and the unshed tears still remained, glittering on the surface of his vision.

He felt a hand land on his shoulder. "Toshiro?"

"Yes, Kurosaki?"

"Uh, nothing. Forget about it." Ichigo looked away. They spent the rest of the walk in silence, the cold winter chill creeping through their clothes, turning noses and cheeks a pleasant pink. Not that Toshiro minded, but, as Ichigo found, the Shihakusho isn't really made for colder temperatures. Ichigo crossed his arms tighter over his chest and blew a puff of air out through his nose. "Oi, we're here." He said, jerking his head in the direction of a beige apartment building. Hitsugaya turned, hands stuffed in pockets, treats tucked under one arm, to the short cement walkway leading to the indented building.

The lobby-if you could call it that- was nothing special. It was the landlord's living quarters, a side aisle set off so you could access the elevator without disturbing him. Hitsugaya glared at the metal box before going inside, crossing his arms stubbornly. _Cute…_ Ichigo chortled, and Hitsugaya swore that if he ever made a list of people who needed to die (by his own hand) Ichigo would be first on his list. After Ukitake. And Matsumoto, too. Oh, and that weird kid who won't stop confessing his love. Okay, so, maybe Ichigo wasn't very high on his list, but, it's the thought that counts, right?

Toshiro was snapped from his musings as the elevator dinged, signaling they had reached the desired floor. The doors swooshed open; they stepped out, and were faced with a vanilla door with a large, gothic five brushed in the upper center. The plush carpet under his shoes was wine red, bringing out the blood sheen on the black handle of the door. Gesturing for Hitsugaya to open the door, Ichigo stepped aside. Toshiro turned the key, listening to the wonderfully loud clank of tumblers, and pushed the door open. He was greeted with darkness. Ichigo stepped in the door beside him and flicked the light switch. And, even with the lights on, the room was still dark.

Autumn's crisp sunlight was shrouded by grey curtains, and the stoic white furniture stood out in contrast with the black carpeting and the so-much-darker-but-still-the-same-colour-as-Toshiro's-eyes painted walls. Toshiro stared for a minute, mouth _almost_ hanging open. Kurosaki's apartment was pleasantly dim and matching. But, somehow, not surprising. Ichigo chuckled again, and held out his hand for the rather large bag of candy.

"Just put your shit in the bedroom." He pointed. Toshiro handed over the bundles of sweets, and stepped down the hall. It wasn't until he was at the bedroom door that Ichigo suddenly remembered. His body. He left it lying out. Oh, crap, and it was only wearing a towel. He rushed forward, trying to stop Toshiro from opening the door.

_**Ichigo's Point of View**_

"Kurosaki!" I flinched. Too late.

When I got to the door, Toshiro was slumped on the wall, facing away from the door, his cheeks pink, and pinching the bridge of his nose. All together, he looked _pissed_.

"Yes, Toshiro?" I asked in what I hoped was passable innocence. He glared at me. Nope, guess I didn't do it quite right. He pointed to the open door. I looked sheepish as I walked in, closing the door behind me.

I looked down at my body and cursed. The bloody towel had fallen off. Sighing, I adjusted myself into my body and got up to get dressed. I chose a tight, black long-sleeve thermal, and a pair of newly bought purple skinnies. I swooped the towel up and threw it in the hamper, before opening the door. He stood in the hallway, eyes closed, arms crossed and looking as cute as I remember.

He cracked open a perfect emerald eye and asked, "Are you decent?" I grinned. For being such a grouch, his sense of humor is _deliciously _sarcastic. Yes, deliciously. I know, I'm a fag, shut-up. "Ah, no. No, I am not. I am standing here in the hallway, completely naked, and my skin has turned black and purple." He scoffed a little at that, and I felt proud of myself. That was the closest thing I had ever heard to him laughing. He pushed himself off the wall and grabbed his bag, walking into my bedroom. I heard a thump as said bag landed on my desk chair, and he strolled out a second later, hands in his pockets.

I glanced at the clock. _Shit. It's time for lunch and I've got no food._

"Oi, Toshiro!" I said. "Put your shoes on."

"And why would I do that, Kurosaki?" he asked me.

"'Cause I have no food in the house, so we gotta go out to eat and go to the store." He grumbled at me but complied anyway. _So cute…_ I thought. I chortled, and grabbed my jacket off the hook, slung it over my shoulder, jammed my hand in my pocket and leaned up against the wall. I bent my left knee, letting my heel touch the wall and lowered my chin a bit, looking at the carpeting. I heard him come around the corner, but stayed where I was. I looked at him through my hair, and saw him eyeing my up and down, his cheeks slightly pink. I pushed off the wall and turned to the door. He shoved his fists in his pockets and stalked out the door that I was holding open for him.

He huffed at the gesture and walked to the elevator. I pressed the down button, heard a _ding_ and held an arm out in a no-you-first gesture. He scowled and stepped into the little box.

_**End Ichigo's Point of View**_

_**Begin Toshiro's Point of View**_

He stuck his arm out with that sarcastic smirk that about mirrored my own. I stepped into the "elevator" and he followed behind me. He reached over my head and pressed the button, making it illuminate orange. The box dinged and the doors slid closed. I didn't normally like small places, but I felt more comfortable with Kurosaki there. How odd. I shall look into that. The box beeped and those bloody doors opened, freeing me. We walked back down the hallway and out the door. The cold air blasted me in the face. I breathed it in, welcoming the sting as it entered my lungs. Kurosaki stepped out behind me and I could feel the heat coming off him. I liked it. I slowed down and felt him close to my shoulder.

This is a curious sensation. The warmth I feel from other people usually repels me. I will definitely be investigating this further.

* * *

Omake:

Moi: Oh. My. God. I am so sorry. I hate myself for making all my loyal fans wait so long. I hope you guys still love me.

Ichigo: *pats back* If it makes you feel any better, I loved the extra time off. It gave me and Toshiro more time-

Toshiro: _Idiot_! Don't ruin the story!

Ichigo: Sorry, Shiro. Just trying to make her feel better.

Moi: Thanks guys. *sniffles*


	4. Tea

**So, all of you guys who have come this far should get the gist of all the warnings and disclaimers. I don't think I will be putting those up anymore. But, the next chapter shall include some form of a timeline, for those of you who may be confused as to everyone's ages. I know I am…**

**But, please enjoy!**

Toshiro leaned back into the couch, curling in a little ball, his cup of tea warming his hands. Raising the cup to his lips, he turned back to the television screen. Some man, who he thought was called Jack, was sketching some nude woman whose name he was pretty sure was Rose.

The movie was quite simple, cliché, and did not require a lot of attention. But, it was a satisfactory movie nonetheless.

* * *

Ichigo was surprised, to say the least, when he found out that Orihime had introduced Toshiro to the concept of "movies" the first time he had come to stay in the Living World. And even more surprised to find out that he liked them. So, Ichigo was not surprised when he stepped inside his flat, seeing the white-haired captain curled up on his couch, watching _Titanic_.

Granted, he hadn't thought, that out of the well-stocked collection of movies in Ichigo's cupboards, that he would choose _Titanic_. It was a good American classic, and one that he enjoyed, but not his favourite.

He plunked his keys into the bowl by the door, stripped off his jacket, and sat on the other end of the couch. Toshiro didn't comment.

The white-haired boy raised his cup to his lips again, feeling the tea's warmth spread into his limbs.

The sky was grey today. One continuous, murky cloud flowed from horizon to horizon. Dew and ice crusted plants and windows. Breath fogged, rain sprinkled.

The movie ended, and Toshiro curled up on the window seat, a fresh cup of tea sitting next to him on the sill. Ichigo stretched out on the couch, studying the petite captain's profile. He traced the lines of his nose, his eyes, his lips, knowing, all the while, that Toshiro knew what he was doing. Toshiro's eyes remained staring steadfastly out the window the entire time.

It was a strange thing that they had, whatever it was. It was like a dance. They would ease together, only to shoot apart and twirl around the unknown oddity that they felt were their feelings. Times like these, the calm ones, their roles could be reversed, or could stay as they are.

Toshiro moved his eyes from the window, teal shifting to lock with ochre. The little captain stared, searching for something he wasn't entirely sure he would find, or if he did indeed want to find it, whatever _it_ was.

Ichigo smirked and turned away from Toshiro, getting up from the couch and stretching. Toshiro's eyes followed him, fixing on the smooth slip of tanned skin peeking from between a very purple shirt, which clashed pleasantly with Ichigo's vibrant tangerine hair. Toshiro hummed lightly, barely hearing it himself, before turning his eyes back to the window.

He was surprised when he felt something brush his arm and slide through his hair. He looked over to see violet. He looked up, finding Ichigo, face focused out the window. Toshiro eyed the stubble that was _just _beginning to make itself known on the edges of his chin.

Toshiro smirked.

* * *

Yamamoto slammed his staff to the ground, the sharp noise echoing through the meeting hall and effectively silencing the bickering captains. He looked at them sternly, as if they were nothing but toddlers, caught rough-housing in the sandbox.

"Enough!" he boomed, rapping the floor again for good measure. Everyone in the room straightened visibly. "We are here," he said. "To speak of the missing positions that must be filled."

Everyone looked to Yamamoto.

"If anyone has a suggestion for the position of the captaincy of any of the available companies, please speak now." Yamamoto's voice was gravely, slow.

The uproar began again, the shouted names lost in a haze of noise and confusion.

"I have said that this is _enough_!" He shouted powerfully, lacing the words with reiatsu, the walls shaking under the weight. The captains' knees trembled. "You are all respected figures of Seireitei! And this is how you behave! It is ridicules! I expect you all to be silent! You will speak when I ask an opinion or you have something _intelligent_ to contribute! Do you understand?" he leveled a glare around the room.

"Hai, Sou-taichou!" The captains replied in unison.

Yamamoto was silent for a moment longer before he spoke again. He turned to Soi Fon.

"No, Sou-taichou, I have no suggestions."

"Very well then." Yamamoto rumbled. His eyes shifted to Unohana, who smiled slightly.

"I think Abari-fukutaichou and Kurosaki-kun would make fine captains."

"I believe that Abari and Kurosaki would be acceptable captains," Byakuya answered, even if it was a bit cold.

"I agree that Kurosaki-san would make a fine captain, but as for Abari, I have no opinion." Komomura growled.

"I must say Abari and Kurosaki as well, Yama-jii," Shunsui tipped his hat.

"Kurosaki's solid and Abari is tough. They would make us proud." Kenpachi said imposingly. Kurotsuchi rubbed his pale hands together before answering.

"Kurosaki, of course." He leered.

"Yama-jii, I must agree with Shunsui." Ukitake nodded.

Yamamoto looked around the room, before speaking. "Very well. If no one has anything more to add, I thank you for your input. You are dismissed."

* * *

Toshiro hunkered down; his favourite tea placed steaming in front of him, a pile of smuggled paperwork stacked neatly beside it. Reading through a document, Toshiro's eyes widened. He read through the paper again quickly, teal eyes flashing.

Toshiro frowned. How could Seireitei do this? Yes, the boy was a spectacular candidate, and could help Seireitei greatly, but what about his own life here, in the human world?

This was a problem. Toshiro read the paper again. Oh yes, a very big problem indeed.

Toshiro rubbed his eyes and pushed the paperwork away. He crossed his arms and paced, socked feet making petite thumps on the floor.

Ichigo had yet to wake, and Toshiro _had_ been planning on enjoying on some peace, but now Kurosaki would be up soon, and Seireitei had to spring something like this on him!

He sighed and rubbed his temples. Well, this made things complicated...

* * *

Urahara tipped his hat from his head and rubbed his eyes. He was too old for this. He paced, the hollow clack echoing throughout the room. Yammamoto is going to face a lot of opposition on this. The decision was already made, though, and he supposed that it wouldn't matter how much grief the old man got for this. After all, Yammamoto deserved it all.

He shrugged out of his cloak and kicked his sandals from his feet. He settled on his futon and rubbed his eyes again. He didn't feel like being 'Urahara-san' today.

Someone knocked on the wood panel beside his door.

"Someone is here to see you, boss," Tessai's voice floated through the paper.

"Who is it?" Urahara asked wearily.

"Open the door, Kisuke." Isshin said.

He looked up at the all-too-familiar voice. Kisuke stood, crossed his room in three strides, slid the door aside. Tessai was nowhere to be seen.

Kisuke faced his comrade and stepped aside to let him in. Isshin stepped into the room, staying silent when Kisuke slid the door shut, but slithering right into his friend's space once the door was firmly closed.

"Isshin, what-" the elder Kurosaki cut him off.

"You're stressed, Kisuke. You have every reason to be. But please, Ichigo must handle this on his own. There is no need for you to worry. He will make the right choice." Isshin chided, putting a hand on his friends shoulder.

"How can you possibly be sure," Kisuke sighed.

"Trust me, my friend, I'm not. I'm worrying myself silly. He is my son. He shouldn't have to make this decision, as we did. But he will, and he will make the right one." Isshin spoke confidently, as he always did, but Kisuke knew better.

He reached up and wrapped his arms around the larger man's neck. "I do believe that you're right," Kisuke said, wishing he hadn't kicked off his sandals earlier. He felt Isshin's warm hands wind around his waist, lifting him and pulling him closer. This is one of those times when Isshin's size was comforting, and Kisuke leaned into him.

Their faces were only inches apart, breath wafting over each other's faces. The gap was closed and their lips melted together, Kisuke's arms tightening around his companion. He felt Isshin guiding him backwards, felt his knees hit his mattress.

Isshin pulled back, slivers of light ducking under the blinds and crossing over his face. Kisuke laid himself down, pulling Isshin to lean over him, and connected their mouths again. It was then, with his hand dipping into Isshin's hakama, that Kisuke realized that Isshin was in his soul-form.

He untied the white obi, reveling in the soft swish that it made when it left Isshin's hips. Isshin's tongue dipped into his mouth, and Kisuke responded, coaxing their mouths to open more. His wish was granted, and he deepened the kiss, pulling Isshin closer again.

* * *

Tessai walked to the front of the shop, sticking the "Closed for Personal Buisness" sign to the door. His boss needed a day to rest. The meager fill of customers they had throughout the day could certainly wait. And besides, Tessai had yet to finish the jig-saw puzzle Inoue-san had brought to him a few days ago...

* * *

Moi: Oh my God! Please don't hate me! I know that it's crap, but I'm working through a mess of shit. It's a lame-ass excuse, I know, but bear with me. I'm gonna try to get to the Toshiro/Ichigo action as fast as I can. But I need a story with some actual development, so forgive me.

Ichigo: C'mon, Hoeru! When do I get to cuddle my little Shiro?!

Moi: In time, young grasshopper, in time…


End file.
